


the man who lived down the hall

by ifonesthought



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Be gentle, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Swearing, an experiment of sorts, and this is not entirely reality compliant, in which they are not celebrities, just really weird idk i tried something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifonesthought/pseuds/ifonesthought
Summary: There once was a man who lived by himself in the apartment down the hall. He was a good neighbor, quiet and clean, who always wanted the best for others, sometimes at the cost of his own happiness.





	the man who lived down the hall

There was a man who lived by himself in the apartment down the hall. He was a good neighbor, and oh so quiet that it took several weeks for anyone to notice that someone was living there at all. The first time they did, the pleasant smell of a home-cooked meal had wafted down the corridor. As late night office workers with hard etched dark circles dragged their feet towards their doors, fumbling with shopping bags to fish out their keys - they halted, sniffed the air, and smiled. Stomach rumbling with approval as they let themselves inside, they wondered whether they should try their hand at making something themselves for once, instead of unwrapping their third ramen cup of the day.  
The first time they had actually seen him, he had held the door to the elevator open for someone running late, barreling down the hall, with their briefcase slung over one shoulder and coat only partially pulled on. Out of breath, they thanked him and he simply responded with a gentle smile. “Have a nice day” he called out when the doors opened at the ground floor, a voice smooth and sweet like strawberries and cream. 

Sometimes weeks could go by without anyone seeing the mystery man. Most of them had been made aware of his presence, he waved fondly at toddlers and sometimes brought them excess cookies that he couldn’t finish himself. They were never extravagant, simple things that brought you the warmth of a family home in one bite. They grew accustomed to recognising the smells of his favourite dishes, always wondering if there was a special occasion, whether they should ask. But the man kept to himself, and no one had ever been seen to come or go past that impenetrable door. They wondered whether he always ate alone. 

No one really knew the man’s name either. They found his last name easily enough, as ‘Park’ was etched above the mailbox of the infamous apartment 73E. But they couldn’t come to think of the man as “Mr Park”, the man so gentle they had wondered if he was even real. It felt too ordinary for someone so special. Perhaps that is where the nickname first came about, ‘Leeteuk’, though they would never call him that to his face. They used it in hushed whispers to each other to enquire about his whereabouts when he was gone, hoping he was healthy wherever that may be, almost afraid that if they spoke too loud he would melt out of the walls wearing that permanent smile of his and somehow forgive their indecency. 

But no matter how long he was gone for, he would always be back, suddenly and without warning or explanation. A soft greeting at the ready, and eyes that shone with the faintest hint of a buried and repressed loneliness. 

So naturally it came as a shock the day that a young man about roughly the same age, sporting a tracksuit and socks with slip-ons, showed up at his door and knocked so furiously he seemed ready to rip it off its hinges. Worried, the neighbors had hovered over their phones debating with themselves whether or not they should be alerting the police about a strange potential break-in by a deranged man. But before they could make up their mind, the man had swore under his breath, giving the door a final, defeated kick and stalked away back down the hall. 

The next morning they opened the door to a crouching Leeteuk, who was attempting to slip an envelope beneath their door. Startled, he quickly bent forward as far as he possibly could, blurting out a string of apologies. They placed a hand on his shoulder telling him there was no need - but he was adamant and pressed the note into their hands. They simply asked if he was alright, if there was anything they could do, whether he was being harassed - to which he vigorously shook his head. Before he left he managed to tilt his head to make eye contact. “I’m fine, please do not worry about me.” he said, with puffy eyes. They did not believe a word, but in the next moment he was gone.  
The corridor was eerily quiet for the next few days, the crushing weight of embarrassment keeping him locked inside his apartment, and determined to make as little noise as physically possible. No cooking was smelled, and the rest of the building was plunged into a gloomy haze. More cup noodle wrappers found themselves piled in the garbage room. The note he had given them read - “Please do not think ill of my friend. He is headstrong and not mindful of people’s limits, which makes him rather reckless.”  
A new chatter caught the inhabitants ablaze, lingering questions that threatened to change their fabricated perspective of the man. 

“How could the gentle Leeteuk we all know have such a friend?”

“Are we even sure he is really a friend - maybe he is the one that has been wronged and we were all played for fools!” 

“Could he really be a criminal..? A charming psychopath right under our noses..” 

The lobbymen had eventually ushered them away, sick of gossip but also very much hoping they were wrong. 

The second time the man came, he had a completely different air about him - shoulders hung in shame, hands shoved into his tracksuit pockets. When he reached apartment 73E, he lifted a knuckle to the door as he went to knock, but seemed to change his mind mid-way let his hand brush it instead. He was swaying slightly, filled with what looked like regret before pressing his back to the adjacent wall and letting it guide his slide down to the floor. Once he was down there, he did not move. He just looked on with unfocused eyes at the door ahead, unreadable. He seemed to be muttering something under his breath, a single word over and over again that they couldn’t quite make out at first. With increased urgency, he lurched towards the door and pressed his ear to it, listening for any noise from inside. This time he was louder - 

“Jeongsuuu” a slurring, low whine. “Jeongsu.. are you there?”

A beat. 

“I need you.” 

Several beats. 

His gaze still unfocused, he pressed up so hard against the door he could have fused right through it. No noise seemed to come from the inside, because the man laid his head back one more against the wall and closed his eyes. His face shone under the low lights, cheeks slick with tears both old and new. They felt a pang of pity for this pathetic man, whoever he may be and whatever he may have done. He sat there for a very long time, and no-one came. A hush fell upon the building, one which typically confronts a shared secret. At sunrise, a mug of fresh coffee found its way into the man’s hands. No words were exchanged as the inhabitants filed out bit by bit, and no one could say when the man had eventually gone. The door to apartment 73E remained stubbornly closed upon their return, but the empty mug now stood, clean, on its owner’s welcome mat. The unspoken agreement was that Leeteuk would remain Leeteuk to all of them, that the name ‘Jeongsu’ held a certain weight and intimacy to it that only the strange man in the tracksuit had a right to. 

The next few days sank everyone into a deeper haze than they had been in before. An all pervasive miasma infected them all, clung to their clothing, polluting every corner. It is no wonder: how are the ordinary meant to live, when their sun was sick. Leeteuk had left the apartment since the incident, but refused to say a word, to look anyone in the eye and face his shame. It looked like he had lost weight, he stood gaunt in the elevators, wraith-like, eyes vacant. The building’s eyes had seen all, he felt them pressing ever on, wanting answers to questions they had no right to ask. The hallway lights threatened to shine right through him, and as he reached his door, he closed it with a decisive force as if the shockwave could shake everything off, shed the feelings of deep seated regret, and return everything to the stillness of a simple life.  
The day of the final incident had come in a whirlwind which started with the insistent, incessant phone calls echoing shrill tones down the corridor. At first, they were interrupted mid-ring, a low gravel of a voice speaking down the receiver which was all but a rumble from the outside. Then, there was a short expectant pause, before the ringing began again. Weary, Leeteuk eventually left them to go for as long as the patience of the contacter would allow. And eventually they stopped too, sinking the day into a foreboding, electric silence that signalled the coming of a thunderstorm. When the man in the tracksuit returned, wild eyed, clattering knocks on the door like torrential rain, Leeteuk swung open the door and shouted for what felt like the first time his life. 

“What do you **want** from me anymore Heechul?” 

“Jeongsu you-” 

“You can’t fix me, there’s nothing you can do anymore, so what do you want? For me to beg? To get on my knees and ask you to stay every time you head towards the door? Because I can’t do it anymore Heechul. I can’t.” 

“You’re not listening to me Jeongsu-” 

At that, Leeteuk gave a hollow laugh. 

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” 

“Because I love you you fucking **idiot** and I don’t know how to deal with that! I’ve never felt like my heart was about to rip itself to shreds, I’m scared, absolutely fucking terrified of what could happen if something were to happen to you one day. I don’t know how this is supposed to work, you know I don’t.” he raked a hand through matted hair, chest heaving. The reality of the words he had just spoken slowly began to sink it, setting his heart off into frantic, painful thumps. His hand found its way to his mouth, nails threatening to peel his skin off, whole body threatening to sink into the ground out of fear. “ **Fuck-** ” 

And in that moment time seemed to slow, as Heechul in the height of revelatory panic spun round like the coward he was, to run far away to somewhere where he would never have to come face-to-face with Leeteuk again. And Leeteuk, despite himself, despite all he could say and all which he had wanted to push away, jutted his arm out unconsciously and desperate, like it was second nature, and sealed an iron grip onto the other man’s wrist.  
In that moment, it was as if the entire building had taken a breath, eyes boring into the both of them with a sadistic curiosity. 

And despite all of this, Leeteuk spoke. 

“Stay. Please.” 

And when Heechul turned back, eyes filled with tears, they looked at each other and stood in the corridor for what felt like an eternity. 

 

***

There once was a man who lived by himself in the apartment down the hall. He was a good neighbor, quiet and clean, who always wanted the best for others, sometimes at the cost of his own happiness. His life had been taken over by a strange man in a tracksuit, a stubborn man with a loud laugh, shameless and ridiculous on all counts who made him feel with more intensity, in every possible way. 

The building had gotten used to their new neighbor. Though he was abrasive, they knew he was important to their Leeteuk and forgave him for his misgivings. They helped him sort through his recycling when they found him in the refuse room, and always offered a small smile when they saw him walking his dog around the block. 

Love couldn’t heal everything, in fact it certainly made some things much harder, but for the most part a peace and fullness was restored to Leeteuk’s life. And he became much like the man he used to be, with the added gleam of a smile that was a little wider, eyes that were a little brighter. The smell of cooking had come back with added flavour, new spices and aromas that livened everyone up. 

But the best novelty had been the music. Slow, rocking ballads in the evenings and power trots on the weekends. A soft, soaring voice would start shyly, and eventually, with the coaxing of a rougher deep voice, grew to new heights. A lapse in the melody allowed for a shared look of fondness, a brush of lips that either escalated to desperate touches, or diffused into a set of still not-quite-believing, embarrassed, bubbling laughter. 

To Heechul, he had remained simply Jeongsu, no pet names which had felt quite right. 

And to the others he was Leeteuk: the angel of apartment 73E.

**Author's Note:**

> cricket noises 
> 
> ok so this was weird, I know, but bear with me. So I have not written a fic since probably 2012, and from then I've primarily done non-fiction so this is all pretty new to me. I've been aching to sit down and write something and this is what resulted I suppose, I've also always wanted to write something from the perspective of the outside-looking-in. This was short and quick I know and my grasp on arcs and dialogue is a little terrible gahh but this was meant to test the waters and see if I wanted to start writing again. 
> 
> anyways shoutout to teukie's angels for reigniting my love for 83line, if you're reading, I hope this wasn't too garbage.


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